


I Will Keep You Safe From Harm, No Matter What.

by Velocity_Owl87



Series: The King's Daughter [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Broken Engagement, F/M, Family Secrets, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Rebuilding, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 05:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1594004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velocity_Owl87/pseuds/Velocity_Owl87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ring had been destroyed, the war was ended and the King of Gondor has returned. Arwen had expected the fulfilment of a promise and a marriage to Aragorn. </p><p>What she got was Aragorn's past coming back to haunt him in the shape of the new Queen of the Rohirrim and the cold realization that things between them weren't exactly what she thought they were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Keep You Safe From Harm, No Matter What.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to "Outside looking in-The Seven seasons of Thorongil/Aragorn II" that came out of nowhere to be written. I was asked as to whether there would be fall out from the first story in regards to Aragorn's actions in Gondor and then when he was in Rohan. It's not a completely happy ending and it's more a shades of grey kind of look at Aragorn and his choices when he was in the Gondorian army. 
> 
> Proofed and looked over for mistakes and if there are any, apologies as they will be fixed.

_Arwen_

She traveled with her father, Elrond Peredhil and her brothers to Gondor to be reunited with her betrothed. Arwen couldn’t help but to feel a burst of joy as she thought about finally seeing Aragorn again. Although they had seen each other before the Fellowship had headed off to destroy the ring, it hadn’t been enough. They had such a brief time together, but now the waiting was finally coming to an end.

She wondered how different he would be. They hadn’t really spent much time together since he was in his early twenties. He had been gone for so long, working to fulfill his leadership duties with the Duneidain and working to restore his lineage to its proper place. Would they still feel the same way about each other? She had asked herself that question over and over again as she sewed and waited for the word to come of either his death or his success.

She had given her immortality up for him. She was sure that he was the one that captured her heart and her love.

But there was always the doubt. Silent and creeping stealthily inside her mind, taking up residence as the portents got grimmer and her father’s face got even more severe. The news of the east was never good. Her brothers had left and returned, their mouths thin straight lines and their weapons had seen use. Although she knew her father wasn’t going to push her to change her choice about anything, she could tell that it was on his mind whenever he looked at her bare neck where the Evenstar should have been.

Elrond respected her decision, but he was concerned about her wellbeing as a father would be. He would send her away if men failed as he dreaded that they would. He had never forgotten Isildur and his corruption and the grief it caused them for ages afterward. He would take steps to make sure that the rest of his family would never have to face that darkness and destruction again.

But the race of men had succeeded and she was being summoned to Gondor. Arwen should have felt at ease that this was happening. But her doubts had multiplied with every step of their journey. Although she worked hard to keep them smothered, they were there and always lurking and waiting in the shadows.

They had disappeared, she was happy to note, when she saw the Tower of Gondor. It was battle-scarred, but still standing proudly and she rejoiced. Aragorn was there.

She would see him again at his coronation, when she’d hand him the flag that was safely stowed in her saddlebags and be proclaimed Queen of Gondor by his hand.

She could hardly wait to look upon his face just once more.

~*~*~*~

She was arrayed in her best gown, a soft silvery green that her grandmother had picked out for her and had finished combing out her hair and putting on her coronet when quick raps at her door caught her attention. Pausing, she went over and opened the door to reveal her oldest brother standing out there.

“May I, _teleth nin_?”

She nodded; surprised that Elladan was coming to see her and to see her alone. He was never without Elrohir hovering right at his elbow, both looking out at the world with an edge of amusement hidden in their grey eyes. But this time, he was somber as he came in and took in the flag that she had draped over a table.

“It isn’t my business sister, but I wanted to ask you exactly what Estel’s intentions towards you are. I mean, has he promised you marriage and the crown for certain?”

Arwen’s eyes widened at the sudden and extremely blunt question.

“He has. Don’t you recall that we are engaged? He wears the Evenstar as proof of this.”

Elladan nodded, his eyes still on the flag. Although she was uneasy at her brother’s actions, she still had to get ready for the coronation that would be happening later that day.

She picked up the coronet and placed it on her head, turning it from side to side to take in the full effect before turning her attention back on her brother.

“Why are you asking me this? What have you found that would make you think otherwise?”

Elladan took a deep breath before looking up at his sister. He sighed heavily before he finally spoke.

“I saw the Queen of the Rohirrim and it was interesting to see that she could have been the exact image of Gilraen. Except for her eyes, you would have thought you were looking at her. You remember Gilraen, don’t you? Estel’s mother?”

Arwen’s hands went cold. She barely remembered the sad woman that had brought Estel to her father’s home, but she remembered that Aragorn looked like her. Had her smile and her hair and that unmistakable stamp of Numenor upon her features that her son had inherited. She had died much too young to re-marry. In fact, Gilraen never had been with anyone else other than Arathorn. He had been her only love that had been quite obvious. So this mysterious Queen of Rohan…Where had she come from and why did she reputedly resemble Gilraen?

“What are you trying to tell me, Elladan?”

Elladan’s mouth twisted into a bitter grimace and Arwen could see that he didn’t want to say the next words, but he still did said them.

“The Queen of Rohan is Aragorn’s daughter, Arwen.”

_Eomer_

He had just finished strapping on his bracers and was debating including his helmet when there was a knock on his door. He frowned and his heart sped up as he rushed to open the door. He hoped that it wasn’t anything serious. Although Eowyn had been healed and had Fengel for company, he was still on high alert when it came to his sister’s well-being. He hadn’t been able to forget his grief at finding her unresponsive and nearly dead in that pile of bodies after the battle. He had looked over her, guarded her for days until Thoro-Aragorn had assured him that Eowyn would heal and live.

He opened the door and was prepared for the worst. What he hadn't been prepared for was seeing his own wife standing in the hall with their sons.

“Morwen!” He exclaimed, his expression turning sunny as he pulled them all inside, embracing his wife and kissing all of them as he ushered them inside.

“I should have gotten them settled, but they wanted to see you. They didn't believe me when I told them you were fine and we'd see you after the ceremony.” Morwen explained as Eomund, their youngest, reached out for his father. Eomer laughed and plucked him from her arms, leaving Elfwine to clamber up his mother's arms.

Eomer smiled and laughed softly as he pressed another kiss to his son's forehead and smiled at his wife again, glad to have her beside him once more. He had missed her desperately, his grief making him hard when he had been forced into exile from Rohan until Gandalf had summoned him and the Horse Lords back in time to save their people. He had only a brief respite with her before the Rohirrim had answered Gondor's long awaited call. There had been no time then. But now that the ring had been destroyed and Gondor had its long awaited king, they would be a family again. Rohan would be rebuilt and...His thoughts stopped short as his mind finally put the remaining pieces together and came across a truth that he hadn't registered until that exact moment.

He had always thought that it couldn't have been more obvious that Morwen was Thor-Aragorn's daughter. Other than her green eyes, she was the spitting image of him. Her smile, the way her hair fell behind her back, her grace and skill with a sword. All of it was there and plain to see. As for Fengel, he had always assumed that he favoured the mother they never spoke about and that was that.

He had never really dwelled on the knowledge before. He just had accepted it and had gone on with his life with her at his side. He hadn't realized the implications until she stood in front of him, smiling like Aragorn first when Fengel had been called back and then when Eowyn's illness had finally broken and she was on her way back to the living.

Morwen's smile's slipped as he watched, her features becoming serious and puzzled as he kept on looking at her without saying a word.

“What's wrong? Eomer, why are you so serious all of the sudden? Is it Fengel? Or Eowyn?”

“No! They are both on the mend in the houses of healing. We shall see them. It's something I just realized when I now saw you.”

Morwen's expression softened and Eomer breathed out a sigh of relief. He couldn't tell her his suspicions. Not when he wasn't sure that Aragorn hadn't addressed them as of yet. He was her husband. But the King was _her_ father. It wasn't his business and he was sure that Aragorn wouldn't appreciate him wading in the middle of that situation, especially since he didn't know why it had taken place in the first place. 

But he also realized that if he could see it, others would also notice and the rumors would start and that was the last thing that the returning king needed: A coronation marred by rumors and tales flying around. They needed solidarity more than ever if the rebuilding of Gondor and all of Middle Earth would be a success. 

“You look so much like Aragorn. So much like him and even though I saw it before, back in Rohan it's just now that I see it twice as clearly as before.”

Morwen's face got pale at those news, but she only shook her head.

“He's not my real father, Eomer. He did raise us, that is true. But he isn't our sire. That honour was reserved for Denethor, son of Ecthelion. The last Steward of Gondor, if memory serves correct.” 

Morwen explained harshly, her voice a dark and cold thing that made Elfwine whimper at the sudden viciousness inherent in it. Noticing her son's distress, she hushed him and smoothed his fair hair back, murmuring to him until he had lain his head on her shoulder and was calm again. Once he was settled, she turned back to her husband, smiling tiredly as she continued.

“We came to Rohan after our mother died. Aragorn was my mother's guard and our grandfather begged for him to take us away before his son, lost in his grief, would have killed us. It was a good thing that he did.”

Here, she paused and lifted the heavy fall of her hair to show him the burn scar that he sometimes would stroke after they had finished their love-making. It was old, and puckered and as far as he could recall, always been there. She had never spoken about it and he had never pushed to know what had caused it. He hadn't ever been curious, if he was honest. But he was about to find out now what its origin was.

“He tried to burn us after our mother's funeral. Only our grandfather knew that there was something wrong and rescued us in time. Fengel-” She shook his head. “-Faramir. That is his name. Faramir doesn't remember. I only remember bits and pieces as if I was in a dream. But I do remember being handed off to Aragorn and the days spent riding and riding until we got to Rohan. When your father and uncle let us stay, he changed our names, raised us to be Rohirrim. We grew up, you stopped thinking of me as your sister's playmate and here we are.”

She smiled, a brittle one, but it was a smile nonetheless. Eomer nodded and sighed heavily. He had been too young to remember that, barely any older than Morwen and Fen-Faramir when it all had happened. He only remembered waking up one morning to see a tall, dark haired man with a dark haired, scared little boy in his arms and a mute little girl with bright green eyes clinging to his hand as they explored Meduseld. A little girl that had grown into one of their best Shieldmaidens and that had captured his heart one May day when she had offered him a drink from her cup of mead, her lips tasting of honey before she danced away. 

He swallowed hard as memories kept flooding back: How she had looked in the candlelight after their wedding, her skin gold and her hair darkness as she stood there, shedding her gown before reaching out and putting his hands on her hips. How she had looked after, her eyes sleepy and gleaming like emeralds as she drifted off to sleep. How she had smiled at him, exhausted and tirumphant when Elfwine was presented to him mere minutes after his birth. All of this came in a rush as he looked at his wife, realizing she was still the same, nothing changed for him now that her origins had become all too clear.

“So what is the name that they gave you at your birth?”

Morwen frowned.

“Boromir, daughter of Denethor, Steward of Gondor and Finduilas of Dol Amroth. But I've been Morwen for as long as I can remember. I will always be Morwen.”

Eomer smiled and cupped her jaw with his hand. 

“As you always have been.”

He whispered before leaning in for a kiss, his fears and worries dispelled once he had heard the truth from his wife. 

_Aragorn_

“Is she your daughter? Morwen of Rohan? Is she?”

Arwen asked, her voice cold as ice despite the passion flaring in her dark blue eyes.

Aragorn put the crown down and turned to look at his beloved. He knew that the time was to come, knew it long before when his daughter was a baby and knew it when his daughter arrived with his grandchildren and greeted him after the coronation. She had never been standoffish nor had she stood on propriety. She showed her emotions freely and he was glad that she had never lost that trait. He could even admit that he had encouraged it at times. He never wanted for her to become pale and eventually lifeless like her mother before her. She would never share her fate. He had worked to make sure of it.

He hid the smile that the memory of being embraced by her brought to his lips. He knew most people were scandalized at how the young queen of Rohan had exuberantly embraced him. How strong her joy at seeing him alive had overcrowded any sense of propriety that a coronation should have had. He didn't give a damn, he had laughed and returned it, glad to see her alive after the harrowing closeness of the destruction of the Rohirrim. He had nearly lost her and his grandsons. He was damned if he was going to be reserved when seeing his daughter. Even if he was the King of Gondor. There were already going to be changes and if this was going to be one of them, so be it.

Arwen hadn't said a word at the sight. She had only smiled at him, accepting his embrace with cool passion. Whatever her true feelings had been, she hid them well until they were alone in his chambers. She wouldn't be joining him in his bed until after the wedding. But if her reaction was as such, Aragorn was beginning to think that maybe there wouldn't be one in the end.

“Her name is Boromir of Gondor. Morwen was the name I chose for her when we had to seek shelter with the Rohirrim after the death of Finduilas of Dol Amroth.”

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves before he continued.

“Yes. She is my daughter. Mine and Finduilas'. Only Faramir of Gondor is Denethor's son and heir, if that was what you wanted to know.”

Arwen's face went ashen at the knowledge, her hands coming up to cover her face when she realized that he had broken his promise to her despite the vows that they had spoken so long ago had simply been words. He had lain with someone else and produced a child. A child that was now the heir to the throne and the queen of Rohan. Even without meaning to, he had done what his ancestors could not: reunite Middle Earth in one fell swoop.

Elladan had tried to warn her, to give her some idea of what she should do when the truth came out. She had wanted to believe that it wasn't true. That it was simply coincidence with how strong the Numenorean blood was within the ruling houses of men. Her hopes she saw were for naught when he flat out admitted what she didn't want to be true.

How was she supposed to put this in the past? To know that she wasn't the only one he had lain with? That he had a daughter in Rohan and was already a grandfather? She couldn't. That was the honest answer. She couldn't, despite knowing the reasons. She couldn't accept it. She was an elf and they only loved one and once only and the betrayal was simply too much.

“Why did you do it? Did our vows mean nothing? Did I give up immortality for nothing?”

Aragorn shook his head, his eyes glassy as he moved towards her. But she whispered “No. You don't get to touch me.” and stepped back. His hands dropped to his sides and he sighed again, this time a shuddering sound that was a physical manifestation of the grief he hadn't ever let himself feel.

“They mean and still do mean the world to me, Arwen. I won't deny that what I did was wrong to you and to what we have. I don't want to make it seem as if it was a noble gesture. In your eyes and the eyes of the rest of the world, it wasn't. And it never will be. But to a lonely and heartsick girl left to fade away in a castle of stone, it was. I never regretted being with her, showing her the comfort that she couldn't ever receive from a man such as Denethor was. And I won't ever be ashamed that Boromir, or Morwen as you know her, was the product of that. She is my daughter. A good woman and a Shieldmaiden. Yet I can never publicly admit that. She is mine and she has become everything that her mother could have been if she had been able to have lived a life to a full potential.”

Arwen lowered her hands, revealing tear-stained cheeks and pale lips.

“Even if it was noble reasons, you have broken our vows. You have broken our trust.”

She took a deep breath and drew herself up to her full height. Her lower lip trembled but Aragorn knew that despite those shows of emotions, she had made up her mind about her future. She had made up her mind about his future and everything that had ever been between them. She had always been strong in her convictions and he knew that it was finished before she even spoke the words.

“I will go with my father and the rest of my people across the sea. As much as I loved you, this is not what I had expected to have. Even if your intentions were good, you still betrayed what had been between us and I know that I cannot live at your side, ruling with you and giving birth to your children knowing that you shared this with someone else.”

He had been expecting it, but hearing it didn't soften the blow at hearing the words spoken out loud. He took a minute to calm himself until he was able to look at her and smile weakly.

He then reached up and unclasped the Evenstar that hung around his neck for so many years and put it in her hand, careful to not touch her anymore than he had to. He knew she didn't want him to touch her anymore than possible and he would at least respect that one wish.

“I wish you well, despite all that has happened between us, Arwen Undomiel.”

Her hand curled around the Evenstar and she gave him a bow before she left his chambers.

_Morwen_

She found him alone in a room that looked like it had just been recently cleaned and aired after too many years of disuse. She looked around it curiously as he stood by the window staring out at the city. It had slightly faded, but cheery tapestries that depicted the sea and gardens she knew were supposed to be representations of Ithilien. The bed was freshly made and on it lay a cloak that was the twin of the one Fen-Faramir had draped around Eowyn's shoulders before they had been married. But this one was done in deep greens, blacks and golds and had the same flower motif as the tapestries.

She moved closer to the bed to get a good look at it and was about to touch it when Aragorn spoke.

“It was your mother's. The cloak she brought from Dol Amroth when she was given in marriage to Denethor.”

He was standing beside her and easily picked it up and held it out to show her the pattern of flowers picked out in gold along the dark background.

“This was supposed to be a depiction of her home. I still remember when she set foot in the White City. She wasn't much older than you when you wed Eomer. She wore this as I escorted her to meet Denethor.”

He told her, undoing the clasp and draping it around her shoulders.

“My father.”

Aragorn shook his head as he fastened the clasp and put his hands on her shoulders as he had done so many times before. Morwen felt her face heat up. Aragorn had never lied to her before. She had to doubt that he would start now.

“Your mother was a good woman. Too good to have become the wife of a cold and remote man that was nearly old enough to be her father. Maybe he did love her, in his own way. But he never learned, or understood that she was young, homesick and in need of more affection then he could give her. At least he understood she needed to be guarded.”

“You were that guard.” Morwen asked, her lips numb as the story kept unfolding.

“I was, despite my reluctance and I understood her sadness and isolation. She had lost a child and no one was aware of it. Maybe the ladies knew, but they wouldn't have breathed a word to Denethor. He would have blamed her. After that...She came to me. She only wanted comfort from the only man she felt she could trust in this city. Someone to be kind to her and I couldn't turn her away to be alone in this room, awaiting her fate. Nine months later, there was you.”

Morwen blinked back tears as Aragorn pushed back her hair, his own eyes bright with tears as he kissed her forehead.

“She was overjoyed when you were born, despite your father's disappointment at you being a girl. I knew that I should have left, but I couldn't leave both of you. I loved you both too much to leave you here. So I stayed and watched you grow together and watched as Faramir came and I thought that maybe then, things would be well.”

“But she died and Denethor went mad.”

Morwen whispered, her hand going to the scar at the back of her neck.

“He was going to burn us. In the top part of the city. He grabbed at me, and the pitch fell on my neck. His hand was so cold and he was mad. Truly mad and Faramir was screaming and that was when grandfather took us to you.”

Aragorn snarled as he pulled his daughter into a tight embrace, not letting her go as she cried into his shoulder, the trauma of that night finally out in the open. He hadn't ever asked her about it. Even when she had nightmares. She wouldn't ever speak of it. Faramir had also remained silent on the matter, but that was due to fear erasing the memory from his mind and his age.

“He would have killed us. He would have killed us...” Morwen repeated, her voice trailing off into choked sobs as Aragorn clung to her, letting her weep until her sobs quieted and she was nearly limp in his arms.

“But he didn't and if I had known, I would have taken you from him before he even had a chance to hurt you. That is the one thing I do regret. I never regretted being with your mother. Or your birth. I only regret that he got the chance to hurt you before I could save you.”

Morwen laughed softly at that.

“You still saved us, though. You took us to Rohan. You became a Rohirrim and you stayed to keep us safe. You did what a father would have done no matter what. I'm glad to know you really _are_ my father and that because of you, Faramir got to experience what a father is.”

Aragorn kissed her forehead and pulled away slightly to wipe her face clean of tears.

“Is that why the Lady Undomiel left?”

“Yes. She...She couldn't forgive my being with your mother. Nor could she reconcile herself to your existence. So she has gone to be with her people in the west.”

“I am sorry.”

“As am I. I love her. I don't know when I'll stop loving her. But you are also important to me, as was your mother and I wasn't about to lie to her or choose between you. She made the choice and I can only respect it.”

He smiled at his daughter and kissed her forehead again.

“Come. We have dwelled in the past for too long. Let us leave it in the past.”

Morwen smiled and let her father put his hand on her shoulder as they walked out of the chamber and into the court, next to the newly flowering Tree of Gondor.

END

 


End file.
